


The (hopeless) Search

by Steerpike13713, Zappy



Series: Mila Verse [14]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of presumed character death, Post-Episode: s03e01-e02 The Search, but assumed, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappy/pseuds/Zappy
Summary: Julian rather wishes he couldn't remember every moment of every dream. Especially dreams that are designed to go horribly wrong. He has to process just what exactly has happened during the first meeting with the Founders.





	The (hopeless) Search

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you Cat, m'dear, for writing this with me. Heads up everyone, installments where I write with Cat are pretty much guaranteed to be longer. We just get so into it!

You get to know someone when you spend six days in a beaten-up shuttlecraft with them. At least he and Commander Sisko had one fundamental thing in common. They were crazy worried about their kids. By the sixth day, when Julian did his best to feign sleep, hoping maybe he’d wake up on the station with Mila climbing on his bed, he’d about given up on the probabilities and calculations of them making it back to the Alpha Quadrant alive, let alone the station. When the back of the shuttle opened and revealed Jadzia and the Chief’s clean, smiling faces, Julian almost believed in a higher power.

 

All thoughts of anything but seeing his family vanished as he walked onto the station after believing he’d never set foot there again. Mila about bowled him over with the force of her running to hug him, and he couldn’t resist picking her up as she dangled from his neck, giggling in his ear. Having his arms around her was the best feeling. At least until Garak stepped forward with a smile, and after near death Julian didn’t think of the reasons not to kiss him. He was rewarded with a warm chuckle and a sincere, “I’m glad you’re back, my dear. Lunch hasn’t been the same without you. We were terribly concerned for your safety, you know.”

 

“I think, this time, you were right to be,” Julian said, and forced a wan smile. “Mila…” he swallowed, and caught Garak’s eye. Mila...knew what death was. Far too well. It was difficult to avoid on Bajor during and immediately after the end of the Occupation. All the same, he’d hoped to have a while yet before he had to sit his daughter down and explain that Auntie Kira was never coming home. But, for the moment...he had her back. He’d been so afraid, all those days adrift in the shuttlecraft, that he’d never see Mila again, and here she was. He couldn’t taint that. Not yet.

 

Garak seemed to sense something was wrong, but that he didn’t want to discuss it just yet, and smoothly asked about his opinions on the negotiations they arrived at. Julian grabbed the change of subject with both hands, offering a disbelieving smile, “And is that your opinion, or of the Cardassian Central Command?”

  
“My _dear_ ,” Garak replied with a wide and sly smile, “it’s the former, I assure you. In fact, the Central Command are quite pleased by this prospect. Which only further supports my wariness of it.”

 

Julian raised his eyebrows, brushing his free hand over Mila’s hair. “Why, Garak, are you suggesting the Central Command might be wrong? I must be a worse influence than I had realised.”

 

“I fear for my future fashion choices, should you be correct, Julian.” Came Garak’s dry response, and just as Julian chuckled he felt Mila squeeze his hand.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. You’d look quite good in orange- wouldn’t you say, Mila? You could match.”

 

Mila’s large brown eyes looked up and down Garak, as if envisioning the colour replacing his current outfit of dark greens. “With purple sleeves,” she agreed, nodding determinedly. “Meg purple. And stripes.”

 

The look on Garak’s face was as if he’d eaten an entire lemon whole and Julian could hold back his laughter no longer. To make up for the teasing, he offered Garak a kiss to soothe his insulted ego that was gladly accepted despite Mila’s little wail of protest and the crowd they were walking through.

 

“ _Must_ you?”

 

“This is all your influence, you know,” Garak murmured against his mouth, with a soft, stinging bite to Julian’s bottom lip. And then, all at once, he was at Quark’s. No, no, that wasn’t it. They’d gone on together, he’d talked to the Romulan subcommander, but what did any of that matter now? Now that- They were at Quark’s, and the synthahol was on the house, Quark babbling on and butchering the ‘I have a dream’ speech in typical Ferengi fashion.

 

Rage encompassed him as he watched Miles get beaten half to death, and then watched the Jem’Hadar responsible suffer no consequences whatsoever from Eddington or station security. He commed Sisko through gritted teeth, and did not envy whoever was going to receive the commander’s wrath when he heard. And then the reassignment orders arrived, hitting him like a shock of ice water.  The USS _Quebec_ , Assistant Chief Medical Officer - he’d always known he was young to get the full title - on a five-year assignment to the Klingon border. All Starfleet personnel were leaving the sector. He had to tell Garak, was his first thought. It had been...what, three months now? Not long enough to justify asking Garak to follow him even if he thought for a moment Garak would agree. Besides, they weren’t even living together. Technically, Julian had no right to request family quarters for three at this new posting, and Garak’s pride would never let him beg space on a Federation starship just because he happened to be involved with its CMO - _assistant_ CMO, rather. They’d thrown in a full lieutenancy, but somehow that didn’t ease the sting.

 

His next thought was that he would be completely uprooting Mila, and wasn’t this the very reason he’d never wanted to have a family in Starfleet in the first place? What sort of life could he offer her, so far from any possible home and away from the people he knew she was starting to think of as family. He’d begun to think the same. He’d made friends here, actual _friends_ , people he’d be sorry to leave behind when he inevitably had to move on. And it had always been inevitable - he’d fooled himself, setting down roots here, adopting Mila, starting a relationship with Garak. As if he didn’t know he’d leave them one way or another in the end.

 

He was going through his third attempt to figure out how he’d tell _either_ of them, when he got word that Sisko had been arrested. He was halfway to the holding cells and Odo’s- _Eddington’s_ office, handing Garak a hypo to use on the man if he didn’t cooperate, when he heard Commander Sisko’s voice echo around him.

 

“Doctor? Doctor Bashir!”

 

Julian opened his eyes and pointedly _didn’t_ gasp. For a moment, he thought he was still on that broken-down shuttle, but then sense reasserted itself. The _Defiant_ . He was on the _Defiant_.

 

“What time is it?” he rasped out, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

 

For some reason Julian didn’t quite understand, Dax looked relieved at that. “Not sure - it’s difficult to tell from here. Somewhere around eleven hundred hours, station time.” A pause, and then. “You’re talking again?”

 

Julian shrugged. _It wasn’t real,_ he reminded himself. _None of it was real._

“How long until we reach the station?”

 

“A couple hours,” Miles promised, “Maybe three at a push.” Julian ran a hand over his face, feeling guilty for falling asleep on the bridge like some overworked cadet. And yet, he knew he could use hours more, because his impromptu nap was as far from restful as he could think of. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to be the only one close to the edge right now. Odo looked grimmer than ever, Major Kira was barely keeping her eyes open, and Commander Sisko was upright, focused and quite visibly not swaying on his feet only because Benjamin Sisko’s body was in the grip of Benjamin Sisko’s mind.

 

Julian himself really didn’t need more than four hours himself if he were to push it, but he was about as drained as he’d ever been, and as a teenager he once ran for 27 miles at a sprint just to see if he could. He’d barely slept since they left the Founders’ planet. He’d tried, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bodies lying dead in the station corridors, the look on the Jem’Hadar soldier’s face as he’d fired.

 

He really, truly _hated_ his perfect recall. Other people had the luxury of eventually forgetting embarrassing moments, or having arguments fade from their minds. Julian could recite word for word, with identical inflection, the argument he’d had with his father almost fifteen years ago. It had been a Tuesday. If he let his mind wander he could still hear the jealous edge to Richard Bashir’s voice, the _pride_ he had taken in his accomplishment, in making the son who had not met his expectations disappear.

 

Julian dragged his mind away from his memories, and decided to go through the database he’d managed to transfer over to the _Defiant_ again. He didn’t need to, he knew exactly what was there, but it would eat up the time and maybe he could _stop thinking for five seconds_ . Around him, he could hear the others talking. Acting as if this was all perfectly normal, as if this had been just another away mission. As if they hadn’t _seen-_

 

Forcefully he redirected his thoughts to medicine. Chemical compounds, biology files, sequences in vaccines. Anything but their faces in the dim corridor lighting. The sound of phaser fire. The smell of… Julian didn’t realize he’d made a noise until he saw Dax looking at him in concern. Before he could feel the humiliation, Commander Sisko turned to him. His eyes were kind even as his voice retained the steely quality that was the only thing keeping him upright.

 

“Doctor, may I have a word with you for a moment?”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

The commander glanced around at the others. “Major Kira, you have the conn. Call us if anything unexpected happens. Doctor, with me.”

 

The Defiant was not really big enough to justify leaving the room, but whatever it was he had done, Julian would rather it happen in private. He’d never been the sort to enjoy public humiliation - he embarrassed too easily, had been called oversensitive hundreds of times by his parents, classmates, friends - and so he followed with a guilty sense of relief. When Sisko turned to him, he had his reponse ready.

 

“I know I shouldn’t have been sleeping on the Bridge. I apologise, sir. It won’t happen again.”

 

“That isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, Doctor. I think, just this once, I can let it slide, seeing as I imagine all of us would like to rest. No...I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 

Julian shook his head. “No, I wasn’t hurt at all. Well, not beyond a knock on the head from the Jem’Hadar to put me under.”

 

The Commander’s eyes stared into him and the man took a breath before relaxing his shoulders, “Doctor...Julian. I saw what happened back there, I want you to know that you’re not alone. I know how you felt.”

 

Julian couldn’t take looking into those sympathetic eyes and looked down, crossing his arms over his chest as the memories assaulted him again. “Sir-”

 

“I know what it’s like to be dragged away from a loved one in the middle of a battle.”

 

“It wasn’t real.” Julian mumbled before he could stop himself.

 

“No, thankfully, this time it wasn’t real. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t experience it.”

 

Julian didn’t meet Sisko’s eyes. “I’ll be fine once we get to the station. Sir.”

 

Sisko gave a sceptical sort of hum. Julian’s heart sank. “Nevertheless, Doctor, when we return to the station I want you off duty for a minimum of 52 hours.”

 

Julian blinked, finally looking up. “I’m the only fully-trained doctor you have, Commander, there aren’t going to stop being medical emergencies just because I’ve had a few bad days-”

 

“I’m sure the Bajoran staff can handle themselves for two days, Doctor. You’re no use if you’re falling asleep at your post.” Sisko smiled at him to take the sting out of the reprimand, but it didn’t do much to ease the sense of failure.

 

The hours crawled by, and Julian was almost grateful for it. It meant that this wasn’t a dream. Everything happened so quickly in dreams, just one damn thing after another. When they finally had the station in sight, Julian almost forgot his exhaustion. He couldn’t quite keep still all the while they were easing in, impatient to dock and to find them, just to be sure. Miles glared at him when he started tapping his fingers on his station, and Julian stopped almost as soon as he did, but still he couldn’t sit still, not now, not when they were so close to home.

 

At last the docking procedures were done, and Sisko announced there’d be a full staff meeting...in the morning. He ordered everyone to get some rest, and that as he’d be doing the same not to disturb him. The second he could, Julian very nearly bolted from the docking ring and down onto the Promenade. It was midday, Garak’s shop should still be open, and if his shop was open then Mila was with him. Everyone else she might have been left with had been on this mission or busy somewhere else, and anyway, Garak had offered.

 

After however many days running on little food, barely any sleep, and the stress of their trip to the Gamma Quadrant, Julian was panting when he arrived at Garak’s Clothiers. He stood there, breathing heavily, and stared at Garak showing Mila how he fixed seams, leaning heavily against the doorframe. It took just seconds for Mila to notice him, and then she was throwing herself at him, just as she had in the Founders’ simulation, careening into him almost before he’d dropped to his knees to meet her.

 

“ _Daddy!_ ”

 

Julian had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sound of her voice, fighting to keep the tears at bay. How long had they been gone? He couldn’t piece the time together, he’d had too little sleep, and the simulation muddied the waters still further - had that been in real-time? No, he couldn’t think about that, he was on the station, with Mila in his arms and Garak a few feet away watching and it’s real. _It was real_.

 

His arms tightened around Mila and he buried his face in her small shoulder. She made a sound of protest when he squeezed too hard, “Daddy- you’re crushing me.” Instantly he loosened his grip, though he couldn’t let her go completely. He gazed deep into her wide, innocent brown eyes, and watched as her expressive face bunched up in worry. “Daddy? Why are you crying?”

 

He blinked a few times, and realized he was indeed crying. His voice broke as he gave her a watery smile and shook his head, “It’s fine, stardust. I’m just...really happy to see you.” Slowly he looked up, getting his first real look at Garak since he’d arrived. He was wearing his green suit, the one he’d worn when they first met Mila on Bajor. The one he wore most often, in fact. Julian swallowed and dared to meet those observant blue eyes. Garak’s eyes never seemed to miss anything. They wouldn’t miss something like this. “Both of you.”

 

Garak was wearing his polite, public face. But Julian saw that his brow ridges were just a fraction closer together, all the concern he’d show when the door to his shop was open. With energy Julian didn’t realize he still had, he scooped Mila up into his arms and stepped fully into the shop, allowing the door to close behind him. He allowed the forward momentum to close the distance between him and Garak, who eyed him curiously.

 

Julian stopped just enough to have Mila between them in his arms. He was still crying, and Mila had started to nuzzle into his chest in an effort to ease him. With one hand he quickly brushed aside his tears with the heel of his hand and simply absorbed Garak being there. Alive, eyes roving over him, trying to figure out what Julian was doing. Julian let out a wet chuckle, “I know you’re not fond of them but...would you mind terribly if I hugged you right now, Garak?”

 

Garak’s eyes widened, his brow-ridges lifting a little in startlement. He tilted his head to the side, ever suspicious. It almost made Julian laugh again. “I suppose…” Mila wrapped her arms tighter around Julian’s neck as he shifted her to only one arm, and wrapped the other around Garak. Awkwardly, they stood there, with Mila’s elbow digging into Julian’s side and Garak’s body stiff and tense under his hands. That made it better. It meant that it was real.

 

With his ear right there, Garak had to lower his voice to a whisper when he haltingly asked, “Julian? Are you sure you’re alright?” Julian didn’t reply, and instead laid his head to rest on Garak’s shoulder, absorbing the moment. Garak went stiff again, probably at the impropriety of all this, but slowly relaxed, and put his arm around Julian in turn, tugging him a little closer.

 

“Can you stay the night?” Julian mumbled into Garak’s neck. He felt more than saw Garak craning his neck to try and catch his eye, but Julian just stayed where he was.

 

“Why?” At least Garak’s question was gentled by the fact he was still whispering.

 

“I just…” Julian trailed off and shifted his head so one hazel eye could look up into Garak’s blue. “I’d like you to be there. Tonight.”

 

At last Garak gave a slight nod, and the  hand on Julian’s back started to move up and down soothingly. He leant closer and soaked the feeling in.

 

It was hours later, deep into the station’s assigned night, when Julian was shocked out of his nightmare by a gentle brush of fingers through his hair. For a few minutes, Julian lay there, breathing heavily, staring into the dark of his quarters. He felt the shift in the bed, and eyes shining red in the dark loomed over him. Julian stared at Garak and swallowed, trying to banish the remnants of his dream and failing almost entirely.

 

The image of Garak’s sprawled body, half propped against the side of the corridor, a phaser burn just below the ribcage completely ruining one of his favorite suits. How he’d faked turning against them to shoot the two Jem’Hadar who’d cornered them, the pleased look Julian had given him for his clever ruse before it was interrupted by Mila running down the corridor towards them with bruises on her face, hardly seeing them until she had crashed headlong into Garak and clung on for dear life.

 

Then the sound of phaser fire as the Jem’Hadar reinforcements arrived, a noise that wasn’t human ripping itself from his lungs as Julian darted towards Mila just in time to hear her voice fade away. Her little body had been cold already. Of course it was cold, she was _always_ cold, but now she’d never be warm and what had he _done_ bringing her to the station? He hadn’t been able to believe it. How could she be dead? His stardust, his for less than a year but already impossible to think of living without. His daughter, maybe the only child he would ever have, the only one he had ever let himself want. He had stood, turned, gasping, unseeing, the world around him nothing- Except then his eyes had found Garak, who had fallen by Mila’s side, too still, slumped bonelessly across the place where floor and wall met.

 

He’d reached over, shaken the- not the body, he couldn’t think of it as _Garak’s_ body - uselessly, pointlessly, but he’d done it. Garak’s suit ruined, his face frozen in pain, his eyes clouded over and Julian could hear nothing but the roaring in his ears, could see nothing but those eyes, blank and unseeing, blue and brown and both equally accusing. Dimly he’d heard Sisko telling him they needed to go _now_ , and when he hadn’t responded the commander had grabbed his arm and physically dragged him away from them as Julian fought and screamed and gave away their position to every Jem’Hadar on the station. It was a wonder they’d made it out at all.

 

Julian was jolted back to where he was as he felt something brush against his nose. He blinked and realized that Garak had leaned in so close their noses brushed, those eyes staring into him as if he could find out all of Julian’s secrets if he only looked long enough.

 

“What are you doing, Garak?” Julian said harshly, taking care to keep his voice as low as Cardassian hearing could register.

 

“Bringing you back.” Was the soft reply as Garak tilted his head, strands of his ink black hair brushing his cheek. “You’ve been drifting off, my dear. I’d be insulted that I can’t seem to hold your attention, if you weren’t supposed to be sleeping.”

 

Garak ran the hand he had in Julian’s hair through it, almost petting him. Julian wanted to close his eyes, it felt so good, but knew if he did he’d just be brought back there, to that corridor in the Founders’ simulation that still felt so real it was hard, even now with Mila warm and alive and clinging to him, and Garak at his side, to remember it had been nothing more than that. He stared back at Garak, wondering when it was he had started to find the scarlet of Cardassian eye-shine more reassuring than frightening. The glare flickered for a moment, and Julian snickered weakly at the realisation that Garak had blinked his nictitating membrane at him to avoid a full blink. The sight made Julian smile and he let out a soft sigh as Garak continued to stroke his hair. Mila at his side and Garak basically lavishing affection on him, and still he could not rest easily. There was something wrong with Julian, plainly.

 

“Would you like to talk about it, doctor?”

 

Julian looked away, “Can’t. Classified.”

 

He could hear the smile in Garak’s voice even if he couldn’t see it in the darkness, “Your nightmares are classified?”

 

“When they’re about missions, they are, yes.” Garak huffed and Julian could feel the puff of air on his face.

 

“Then lie, my dear. Change the details but spin the story. It’ll feel better, I promise.”

 

“Is that what you do, Garak?”

 

A low, mirthless chuckle in the dark. “If you choose to assume so, I won’t contradict you. Tell it as if it happened to someone else, if that makes it any easier, but tell it.”

 

Julian thought about that. Maybe he could frame it into an old earth story, like the ones he’d begun to tell Mila at bedtime. But even as he tried to think of a story that might fit, the image of their deaths flashed before his eyes and he tensed. Jerkily, Julian shook his head, his voice raw, “No. I don’t think I can.”

 

Garak slid down to lie beside him, his face not even inches away from Julian’s. “Then may I tell you what I have gathered, and you may correct me if I am wrong.”

 

Julian sighed. “Has everyone but me already submitted their reports?”

 

“Hardly everyone, although Constable Odo’s was quite telling.” Julian sighed a little more heavily, and turned his head on the pillow.

 

“You know I can’t actually say anything about it.”

 

“And you’re not, I’ll be the one doing the talking. The Constable’s reports are _very_ thorough. I will say I was surprised that it ended up being his people who are the true power in the Dominion, even if there was little he could offer about your own trials.”

 

Julian knew Garak could see him perfectly, so he didn’t resist the urge to frown at this breach of security.

 

“That you had been interrogated, though,” Garak went on, “That was easily deduced.”

 

“Was it?” Julian said bleakly.

 

“You will recall the nature of my former employment, my dear. I know the look.” Garak brushed a thumb around Julian’s eye, tracing the shape of orbital ridges that he did not have.

 

Julian offered a half-smile, hoping to head this topic off at the pass while he still could, “Oh, so you’re admitting you’re a spy now?”

 

“Don’t change the subject.” Garak tapped lightly on Julian’s nose in reprimand. “You were put into some form of simulation. Odo’s report claimed this was to gather information on how you would respond should the Dominion invade the Alpha Quadrant.” He paused, staring at Julian, the red shine of his eyes the only light in the room. “You do not need to tell me what they did to you. Or how you responded. But there is no shame in it. The purpose of interrogation is, always, to break the subject. That they succeeded was not because you were weak, but because your enemy was skilled. I am quite sure Commander Sisko would agree, if it’s your career you are concerned for. Or, I might offer assistance in doctoring your report, if you are quite convinced that this would lead to your dismissal-”

 

“No.” Julian swallowed. “It wouldn’t work anyway - we were all in the same simulation. Sisko saw it all.”

 

“And you fear this will taint your colleagues’ trust in you?”

 

“No. No. He was very...very kind about it.” He hadn’t even been pitying. It would have been easier if it could be dismissed as pity. Instead, Sisko had...well, he’d said he understood, and what was more, Julian had believed him.

 

“Ah, Federation softness at work. At least you benefit from it.”

 

Julian rolled his eyes at Garak’s teasing tone, and thought long and hard about the supposed benefits. He couldn't tell anyone what had shaken him, beyond Mila and Garak’s- No, he couldn't say a single word to anyone. About when the numbness turned into something else. Something he hadn’t wanted to believe himself capable of before it had been all he knew, the only comfort the world still held for him. _Burn them all,_ he’d thought. The Founders, the Admiralty that had backed them into this corner, the Romulans, the Jem’Hadar...let them all rot. Nothing left to lose but his illusions, and what good had those ever done him? He’d felt as if he could tear the galaxy open and devour it whole and it would not be enough to quiet the sound of Mila’s screaming in his ears, or wash Garak’s blood from his hands.

 

“I...they simulated an escape from their planet,” Julian said, his heart hammering harder, now, just at the memory. “It was very convincing. But when we got back to the station...things started going wrong. The Dominion was moving in, and the Federation was doing _nothing-_ ” his voice broke on something almost like a snarl at the last word, and he shook his head. “No. Worse than nothing. They were pulling out of the sector. The command crew were being reassigned, Bajor left to defend itself and I think we both know it’s in no state to fight off another invasion -  I was reassigned to - I think it was the USS _Quebec_ . Assistant chief medical officer. Although, they _were_ going to give me a full lieutenancy for my trouble.” He laughed, low and pained and bitter, the sort of laugh that was the next-best thing to tears.

 

“I have always said that the Federation is made up of fools, my dear.”

 

Julian frowned at him. “Is that referring to the promotion or pulling out of this sector?”

 

He could _hear_ Garak’s amused smirk as the man continued to run slow fingers up and down his spine, “Does it have to apply to only one?”

 

“I suppose not,” Julian huffed, but the smile slid off his face as he got to the next part. “They were...it started with the Romulans. There were going to be peace talks with the Dominion. All the Alpha Quadrant powers but the Romulans were invited and...well, you can probably guess how badly they took it. Then the station was crawling with Jem’Hadar, one of them beat Miles half to death in Quark’s and no-one could do anything for fear of disrupting negotiations for a treaty that anyone could see was blatantly skewed in their favour - _I_ could see that, and I barely heard anything about it! - and we’d ceded Bajor, the station, the wormhole...everything, really...to the Dominion!”

 

“This _is_ sounding rather unbelievable. Even _I_ don’t think the Federation would give up the only stable wormhole yet discovered.”

 

“We were being threatened with a full-scale invasion if we didn’t,” Julian pointed out, rather testily. “And of course none of us were going to go along with it! The Bajorans and Romulans then proceeded to form an alliance against the Dominion, Subcommander T’Rul was shot on the Promenade in plain view of anyone and Commander Sisko was arrested for objecting when the Jem’hadar had just committed _murder_ right in front of him-” He was babbling now, he could tell, the words falling over each other in their haste to get out. He drew in a long, ragged breath and carried on. “So we - you, me, Dax and O’Brien, decided to break him out of the Security cells, since that officious berk Eddington wouldn’t cooperate - we ended up having to drug him to get past.”

 

“Please tell me you did the drugging, my dear. I’d rather like that image in my head.”

 

Julian snorted out a laugh. “No, no. That was you, actually.”

 

“Ah, well. I suppose that’s in line with everyone’s characterization of me.”

 

Julian smiled, for the first time unforced, and leant forwards as best he could around Mila to kiss Garak on the chufa. “We dragged the body away together, if that helps?” he offered. “And I gave you the hypo to do it. I just wasn’t quite sure I could overpower him if I’d miscalculated the dose.”

 

Or rather, he was altogether too certain he _could_ overpower Eddington. He just didn’t know if that was something he could get away with doing and, even in the simulation, he’d known to mind his strength.

Garak interrupted his train of thought by soundly kissing him and by the look in those reflective red eyes Julian realized perhaps he shouldn’t have combined that sentence with kissing his chufa. He had to gently push on Garak’s shoulder to stop the kiss. “Mila is still _sleeping_ here, you realize.” He whispered in a gentle reprimand.

 

“I wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate,” Garak muttered, rather sulkily. “So, what happened next?”

 

Julian’s throat felt as if it had seized up. “I...we tried to get off the station.  You- You saved all of us. Lied to the Jem’hadar, convinced them you were on their side and then killed two of them to get us out. But then-”

 

He could still see it now, and his hand had slid forward and up to catch Mila’s wrist, feel the pulse beating there, just to reassure himself that she was there, alive, perfectly safe and well and would stay so as long as there was breath in his body to ensure it.

 

He swallowed. “I...Mila turned up in the corridor. She- I’d left her with Jake and Rom, I don’t know what happened. Keiko was going to take care of her if...if we didn’t make it back - we were planning to mine the wormhole, close the entrance for as long as we could and just pick off Dominion forces in the Alpha Quadrant once the forces beyond the wormhole were cut off. Mila wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near…”

 

Quietly, Garak filled in the silence he’d left long enough for him to collect himself, “Mila has a knack for getting where she shouldn’t.”

 

Julian’s voice was hardly more than a whisper when he spoke again. “Yes.” He swallowed again, his throat was dry. “There were Jem’hadar reinforcements coming, we couldn’t get away in time-”

 

“She was killed.” Garak’s voice was toneless.

 

Julian nodded against his shoulder. “You both were. Disruptor. You were both caught in the same blast. I...I don’t really remember much, after that.”

 

He couldn’t tell Garak the rest of it. How he’d screamed, after, and fought as Commander Sisko tried to drag him away, bringing what had seemed like every Jem’hadar in the place down on their heads. How he hadn’t been able to speak, afterwards, the places his mind had gone, the horrors he’d found himself suddenly willing to contemplate just to silence the sound of Mila’s fading voice, blot out the sight of Elim’s eyes, dead and cold and unseeing.

 

It was those eyes now that brought him back to the moment. Those blue eyes that shone red in the darkness and saw everything. “We read fairly often in this relationship of ours, my dear. Novels, histories, occasionally poetry, though I can’t say I much care for some of it. I believe you even attempt at reading me for lies. You must know you’re not the only one reading a person. You’re an open book to me, my dear Julian. That’s not the only thing on your mind.”

 

Julian shifted, drawing Mila a little closer against his chest. “It’s all that matters. The rest of it is...well, it’s not important. None of it is, really. It didn’t happen. It wasn’t real.”

 

“I quite agree. But your subconscious seems determined to torture you over it, and it’s going to start causing you issues sleeping, which I will not stand for. Not so long as I share your bed.”

 

“I’ll try not to let my nightmares disturb you too much,” Julian said dryly. “I...really, Garak, don’t you think seeing my daughter and-”

How, precisely, did one define a Garak in relation to oneself? You could not apply the word ‘boyfriend’ to a Garak. Well, certainly not to his face.

“-and _you_ murdered in front of me is trauma enough?”

 

Garak’s eyes flicked to where Mila still miraculously lay sleeping between them, and Julian heard a soft exhale. Then he looked back at him, “Perhaps, but you’d be much less tense after telling me if that were the case.”

 

Julian shook his head, and shifted a little closer, “I can’t stop seeing it,” he admitted, his voice soft and raw. “Every time I close my eyes. She was...so tiny, like that. Not even ten yet and dead because I brought her onto this station instead of-”

 

“Instead of living as maybe a second class citizen on either of her birth planets. As living her life named ‘Suffering’. Do you sincerely regret taking her in?”

 

Julian didn’t have an answer for that. He wanted Mila happy, and loved, and to never have endure the sort of utter want of kindness she had known for most of her early life. But even if she were miserable, still Tozhat Teyma, the little girl who had introduced herself to him as ‘Suffering’ without blinking...at least she would be alive. He wanted to keep her by him, wanted to give her everything it was in his power to give, but the image of her tiny, broken body wouldn’t leave his mind.

 

A hand slowly guided his gaze back to Garak’s. “Your mind runs so fast, you need to stop thinking.”

 

“Small chance of that,” Julian grumbled. “Besides. You’d get bored of me.”

 

“Oh no, it’d take more than a few nights of you not thinking for me to grow bored. Not when our lunches are still so stimulating.” Julian could just see the edges of the sly grin that spread across Garak’s face.

 

“Not in front of Mila!” he hissed, gesturing vaguely at their daughter. At the motion of his arm, Mila shifted and both of them froze as she blinked open her eyes. The reflective green (and he’d never quite found the answer to why her eyes reflected green light whereas Garak’s reflected red) blinked up at them before a little hand rubbed her eye drowsily.

 

“...sorry,” Julian said, a little sheepishly. “Did I wake you?”

 

“Mm, ‘s okay daddy. Do you need a hug?”

 

Julian hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “...yes,” he admitted. “I think so.”

 

Mila’s sleepy focus turned to Garak, “You hug him too, yadik. Hugs are better where there’s more than one.”

 

“Do I have any say in this?” Garak protested, blinking owlishly.

 

Julian snorted, “Evidently not. She’s a little tyrant.”

 

“I am _not_!” Mila protested sleepily, sounding quite affronted by the accusation.

 

Garak clicked his tongue. “Of course not,” he said solemnly, “I blame your father’s influence. Quite shameful.”

 

Mila let out a sleepy sound somewhere between a hiss and a giggle, and tugged at Garak’s sleep shift, urging him closer until the two of them were comfortably plastered up against Julian, leeching off his heat. The events of the simulation...couldn’t be reduced to just a bad dream, no matter how much Julian wished it. But they felt a lot farther away here, with Garak and Mila cool and alive and pressed up against him. In the morning, there would be a staff meeting, and the matter of the Dominion still remained to be discussed, but that, Julian thought, could wait.

 

The wormhole flared again outside the window, blue and purple light streaking across the blackness outside, and the station turned on towards morning.


End file.
